photography

52 Rolls Week 16: Chrome Hill and the Quiet Woman by Jacqui Booth

I’ve encountered quite a lot of kindness along the way of doing 52 Rolls.  At least three people have bequeathed me their stashes of expired film, the Impossible Project were generous when I ordered the wrong polaroid film and had return it and a very kind man has given me cameras, bought me cake, coffee and leant me his ear.  In fact, he’s been good enough to become my friend.

This week’s expired film is from a close workmate and fellow skinny dipper, Jane, once a keen photographer herself.  However, the roll of Ilford 400 B&W film seemed destined to be trapped in its canister and so she very kindly posted it so me along with a good stash of other film.  So, when an email came from Karen to say that we needed to get together or else, then it seemed like the right occasion to take this film out and show it a good time.  Or at least some photons.  I'm pretty sure I used the Canon AE-1 for this.

Karen is officially my Aunt (and has kindly supplied me with an Uncle Bob, so Bob really is my Uncle).  However, a wild generation gap and a bit of meeting in the middle means that our kids are the same age, which has been brilliant as my sister has only just had the decency to make me an Aunty.

So, my cousins became my pseudo-nieces and still are…and now they’re at that difficult age.  Still, considering the terrifying mix of boys v. girls our families now consist of, I think it went rather well, my youngest aside…

Please feel free to smirk at my predicament.  We hike in jeans despite warnings from all good walking sources that this will lead to certain death should the heavens open.  They have good walking gear.  My son forgot to bring a coat – that’s my spare he’s wearing. The girls more or less obediently walk.  My youngest stages a sit in.  The girls pose sweetly for photos…my kids pull faces.  They don’t swear.  I do.  The saving grace is that I caught these two beautiful mostly vegetarian, organically grown creatures gnashing their way through a Ginsters sausage roll. Monsters.

Still, the walk went rather well.  Chrome Hill (owned and named by Google Chrome*) is also known as the Dragon’s Back.  Aye, I thought – even the spiniest ridges are never that bad when you’re actually on them though, are they?  So, as various members of the family opted for the sensible route around the hill, I scrambled up a vertical incline after Uncle Bob, right behind my smallest pseudo-niece.  If she could do it, so could I, right?  Hmm – it seems I could but only with a bit of shaking and help down off the hill from my watchful eldest lad (in deeply unsuitable Clockwork Orange T-shirt) as everyone waited.  Ah, the shame…

But then – the reward.  We were back in time for a pint at The Pub.  Not just any pub.  I’d been told tales of it along the route, about how the landlord only sold pork pies and other family bar staff based horrors.  But nothing could really have prepared me for the full joy that this place would bring.  You HAVE to go there.  It’s one of those places that will die with the Landlord – a quintessentially Derbyshire pub if ever there was one.  The League of Gentlemen missed a trick when they didn’t use this place.  Or maybe they just twisted it into the household with the colour coded towels and the frogs.

For starters, it was called the Quiet Woman.  The poor wench on the sign HAS NO HEAD.  There’s a newer sign on the roadside too which isn’t much better.  And the whole place is still in the 1980’s – it would be earlier but church ROOF ALARMS are clearly space age technology.

You can camp there too, but you mustn’t wash your pots in the loo sinks.  Not that you’d want to when you see the grey towel on the rail.  I bet it speaks to you after a few pints.

There are useful notes around the place, to help you maximise your enjoyment of the facilities.

TABLE TRAYS

Please do not remove from their tables.

Packets from Snacks have to be collected and removed.

Anyone putting waste into empty glasses will hear harsh words from the Landlord.

I suspect when I return they’ll be a note asking me not to snigger and take pictures of the signs, and something about unauthorised reproduction of the words being prohibited.

We took our leave before we could get into proper trouble – but not before finding an ancient sticker designed by Uncle Bob himself!

Cheesey family photo time.  Spot the freaks that belong to me…

And so, another day of the decendents of Booth passed by happily.

 

*This may not be true.

PS.I do not have cats to complete the last two frames so meet Rietta and Vienna…Rietta has since become very bold and I found The Teenager cleaning up her poo from my office as few weeks ago.  Awww.

Technical Shit:

After being a bit disappointed by Rodinal on my last two B&W films, I used Ilfotech HC 1:31 8 mins to dev this lot.  I think I like it more.
I accidentally threw my fix down the sink again.  Must stop doing that.

52 Rolls Weeks 15: My Grandad’s folding Brownie by Jacqui Booth

Well, I said they’d be some cheats, and seeing as I’m falling behind then this is going to have to do!  I started this roll of film last summer and because the camera belonged to my Grandad Booth, I wanted to run family shots through it…and these things take time.

But with a squeal of delight which alarmed the baby and just about shifted the sorrow caused by my realisation that I’d wasted a frame AND most likely blurred a couple of shots in snap happy haste, the roll of Neopan was ready to meet its Rodinal.

So, I was kitchen bound…the soundtrack was Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds Tender Pray and much singing and dancing was done between agitations.  This is how Saturday mornings should be.

And lo, there were pictures!  Pictures of the wife and descendants of the Booth man himself.  Not all of the family by a long shot – I may have to round them up.  And enter into some sort of unholy alliance with a tripod…

This was risky – a indoor shot with only bright sunlight from the window to the right.  That’s my expectant sister with my Grandma.  I should probably have left using the camera to her to be fair – she must have used it before!

And here’s a motley selection of 1st and 2nd generation descendants – with a 3rd generation in utero.  I can’t have taken the 2nd pic as I’m in it!  I suspect Mr Z was called to help again.  I may have told him to stand too far back.

And later, here’s my newly adopted fave pub for lunch – you’ll notice that there’s now four generations all out in the open!

And a few months later, here she is valiantly tolerating her first day in my sole care.  And I was treated to smiles.  And I messed it up!  Still, I’ve tested it and I can fit a tripod under her pushchair.  Next time.

Note to self:  Just stop it with the light leaks!

52 Rolls Week 13: Holga Wide Pinhole Camera. Cornwall by Jacqui Booth

Alright, this is chronologically wrong, but what the heck.  April has been mental, to say the least.  This last week has been rather wonderful photographically, give or take Week 12’s disaster.

As I mentioned, I spent three nights at the Eden Project as a participant on the Big Lunch Extras course for people who do astounding stuff in their communities.  It was pretty intense and I responded to the challenge sensibly by having six whole hours sleep on the first night.  I followed this up with two nights of five hours kip.  What do you know – these were nice people to be around.  BUT despite being so tired that I was more or less mute until lunchtime on World Pinhole Day, I managed to get a few seconds out of the hectic schedule to snap the iconic biomes.

Below is part of our small regional group, on the way to another workshop.  There were sixty of us in all, from all around the UK.  The loon in the middle is my mate Lisa Pidgeon, who, when she’s not sticking her bum in the air, is the brains behind Little Bird SOS – who we were working hard for all weekend.  Well, in the daytime at least

And then it was time for us all to make our way home.  Except I sort of didn’t.  After travelling so far the draw of a day’s camera play was just too much, and after so pathetically thankfully being allowed early access to my Premier Inn room in St Austell and a couple of hours dozing whilst the sea winked at me from outside my window, I headed out for a walk along the coast.  THEN I SLEPT.  The next morning I stuffed some Eden Project chocolate into my gob and headed out behind the hotel, followed the fence until I found a me-sized hole and hopped into this quarry.  Though I did make my way all the way down into it, this is taken from the lip of the quarry using a travel sized two legged tripod that for some reason I still have, like its broken leg is going to miraculously heal or something…

So, this is what happens when you use your own knees as a tripod, whilst trying not to slip over the edge and sort of hide from the quarry landrover.

And, thank f**k, they more or less worked!

Massive massive thanks goes to Tony S who got in touch after reading Week 11 and gave me a beautiful Agfa Isolette and the stonking Holga Wide Pinhole Camera that was used for this post.  I really appeciate this and am very much looking forward to not messing up the next Agfa film…

52 Rolls Week 12: The film that could have been… by Jacqui Booth

Except it so utterly wasn’t.

It was full of pictures of the Eden Project where I’d been for four amazing days as a participant on the Big Lunch Extras course for people who do astounding stuff in their communities (and they let me in too).

It was full of coastal paths, deserted beaches and an abandoned quarry that I’d explored alone, daring myself to stay an extra day and enjoy a bit of freedom far from home.

Hell, it even had conclusive proof that fairies existed.

Then I got tired and carelessly pulled the whole thing out of the dark bag with the backing paper.


This blog was first published on 52rolls.net

52 Rolls Week 11: Zeiss Ikon colour 120. The pits. by Jacqui Booth

Due to only having enough chemicals to cover 35mm film, not 120, I eventually had to send this to Peak Imaging for processing. The delay in popping this in the post meant that there’s been a strange hiatus between taking these photos and adding them here.  In terms of writing about them this isn’t good.  My mood has changed.  I’ve been really busy making myself a website at last, and sorting out some Instagram snaps for an exhibition at Brewdog in Leicester – plus all the other delights things that having two jobs and two kids entails.

Anyway, anyone who’s seen my Instagram stream will know that I’m not that keen on where I live.  A trail of photos entitled ‘Leicestershire: A Difficult Place to Love’ has most likely pissed off anyone who believes that Leicestershire is the bees knees.

Week 11 saw me heading to Watermead Park – basically wasteland, sandwiched between a few overgrown villages that reaches almost into the city itself.  The reasons for not really liking this place go on and on – in the last year my visits have been marred by me being hassled, meeting quite a scared runner who’d warned me away from an area from which she’d just been harrassed, giant clouds of gnats, floods, the vast amount of litter that hangs from the trees and the river banks after the floods and a path being closed whilst a poor woman was fished out of a lake.  Add that to my slight apprehension some years ago as a man with an entire spider web face tattoo appeared out of the mist one dawn and the traditional drowning of dog owners whenever the lakes ice over, then it’s a pretty grim place to hang out.  It’s not the first time I’ve taken pics here – a previous lot included a dead fox, a loo seat and a sodden stuffed hippo.  The weir quite often harbours a bizarre catch of ghee oil drums and coconuts.  And on my last visit I nearly trod on a condom.

But it’s within walking distance and vaguely countrysidey. It isn’t countryside of course.  It’s flooded gravel pits, but I’ll take it.

And sometimes – just sometimes – it can feel like an escape.

This blog was first published on 52rolls.net